Frost's Revenge
by Aislinn Rose
Summary: This was written for a challenge using winter themes as a prompt. What happens when the boys go up against The Jack Frost and realize he doesn't just nip at your nose.


Frost's Revenge

by Aislinn

"W-w-w-what a-a-are you," she stuttered out, her breath turning to a frozen mist as it hit the rapidly chilling air around her.

"I'm the one last being you'll ever look down your long nose at," he hissed as he reached out and snapped her nose off of her dead frozen body. Stuffing his trophy into a leather pouch that swung loosely from his hip; he turned on his heel and left her stiff body in the cold dark alley.

"Ok, tell me again why we're here," Dean said as he traded the warm interior of his classic car for the cold December air of Frankenmuth, Michigan.

"Because since the beginning of November five girls have been found frozen to death with their noses snapped from their faces, number five was found last night," Dean's younger brother, Sam, replied.

"Yeah, I still don't see what this has to do with us. What's got you so convinced this is one of our kind of cases? I have to agree with the local cops; it's some sicko serial killer who has a nose fetish or something. I don't see how this is our kind of case." Dean had stepped to the back of the car, popped the trunk and pulled his duffel from the trunk. He lent up against the bumper and was waiting for his brother to follow suit.

"Dean, c'mon man," Sam huffed out as he pulled his duffel from the trunk of the car, "Four of the girls were found frozen solid in their apartments. All their apartments had working heat that was set at seventy or seventy-two. At those temps a frozen turkey would have thawed out, but the girls didn't. Number five, the last one was found two nights ago in an alley not to far from her apartment. While it's cold here, it wouldn't have been cold enough for her nose to have been snapped off without there being some bleeding. Her blood was frozen as solid as an icicle. Any of this sound normal to you?"

"Well, you put it that way," Dean said as he fumbled their room's key into the door's lock, unlocked the door and opened yet another random motel room he and his brother would call home for as long as this particular case took.

Dean stepped inside put his duffel on the bed closest to the door and looked around. He had to admit to himself that this was one of the nicest rooms they had stayed in, in for what seemed like forever. The walls were painted a crisp clean white with a blue border running along the top of them. The bed comforters, even though they had a gaudy floral pattern looked cleaner than most.

Sam stepped in, pushed Dean aside and placed his duffel on the bed farthest from the door. This had been the sleeping arrangements ever since they were little. The brother's had spent their lives traveling the country with their father hunting things most people only believed existed in fairy tails or horror movies. From the age of four, when Dean had been tasked with the job of carrying his six month old baby brother out of their burning family home the dynamic had been set; Dean was Sam's protector and nothing was going to change that.

"I'm gonna take a shower," Dean said as he pulled some clean clothes out of his bag, "why don't you see if you can find a place we can grab some food and a beer. I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry," Sam groused, "Hey save me some water."

After both had taken a shower and changed into a fresh set of clothes they headed out to the local brewery. Sam ordered the Navajo Chicken Sandwich and Dean ordered their Mountain High Meatloaf Sandwich. They talked about the deaths as they sat and drank their last beer.

"So what do you think we're looking at," Dean asked as he knocked back the remainder of his beer and motioned for the waitress to bring their bill over.

"I'm not sure," Sam answered, pausing when the waitress stopped by and continuing after she left, "But I have a theory."

"Ok, so spill," Dean pulled some money out and laid it on the table for a tip, grabbed the bill and headed up to the register to pay, "What's your theory?"

"Ok, so the victims were all single women who lived alone. All were found dead in their apartments, except for the last one who was found dead in an alley two blocks away from her apartment. The women were all frozen to death and their noses were snapped from their faces. This sounds like an old legend I had read in one of Bobby's books. It was the legend of Jack Frost."

"Wait, Jack Frost? Like Jack Frost nipping at your nose, Jack Frost," Dean asked.

"Yeah, but this Jack Frost, originally named Jan Weiss, was a man who in the late eighteenth century found himself turned down time and time again by women. The legend goes that he became so incensed, he called upon the dark forces and asked them for help in getting revenge on those women. Apparently he was granted that help and went on a killing spree, deep freezing those women and taking their noses as trophies.

He traveled all over Europe and when he hit England they began calling him Jack Frost. Around the mid-nineteenth century legend holds that he had amassed a small following and they called themselves the Order of the Frost. About the same time a monk was closing in on Jack and his followers. The monk was able to get the jump on Jack and he burnt him at the stake. What the monk didn't know was that one of Jack's followers had switched the Anointing Oil with regular candle oil and Jack was able to regenerate.

Jack stayed low for many years, only coming out when he needed to refuel. He needs to drain people of their life forces; he does this while freezing them. He uses their life forces as a means to stay alive and to regenerate. That it is why Anointing Oil is so important. The oil purifies the forces he has stolen and sets them free, thus draining him of his power, making it possible to destroy him once and for all."

"Ok, so what you're telling me is that we're looking for some man who's running around with pointy ears, hair that is white as snow with icicles hanging off of it and skin that is blue and looks like it's been frost bitten," Dean asked not wanting to believe that he was actually asking, "Don't you think the police would have noticed him?"

Sam blew out an annoyed breath. He sat on the edge of his bed, placed his elbows on his knees and bent forward, "Well, yes and no. Jack uses the magic of glamorie to hide his true appearance. His power only works when he's in his true form, like you described; but he uses magic to disguise himself. He can make himself look like any normal run of the mill guy."

"Well, that should make things so much easier if he can make himself look normal. So, Einstein you have any ideas on how we find old Frosty," Dean asked as he stretched out on his bed.

"In fact I do. The only thing the police could find that connects the victims is they had all last been seen at a new bar, The Frosty Caldron, that opened up just outside of town. I'm thinking this is what Jack is using as his hunting grounds. While Jack can make himself look normal he'll be wearing some kind of talisman that holds the power to the glamorie spell. We'll go the bar and stake it out. If my memory serves me right the talisman will resemble a silver snow flake."

Sam kicked off his boots, stood up and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "I'll check with Bobby in the morning about the amulet. Right now it's late and I think we both need to get some sleep."

The next morning Sam stayed behind at the motel to do some research and call their friend Bobby, while Dean decided to take a drive around town. The town was packed full of quaint little shops and boutiques, just the kind one would picture in a town who's main source of income was tourism.

Not ready to head back to the motel and not finding anything that interested him in town Dean decided to head out to the Frosty Caldron to do a little reconnaissance of his own. He parked about a block down from the bar and decided to walk the rest of the way.

He made it to the alleyway that lead to the back of the bar when he heard two people arguing. The words they said caught his attention. One man was yelling about how he hadn't signed up for this and the other was roughly reminding him that he was already in to deep and that there was only way out and he wouldn't like it all that well.

A side door opened up and a man dressed in a black suit and tie, of which a silver snow flake was embroidered on, stepped out demanding that two men who had been arguing shut up and get inside before someone overheard them. It was at this moment that Dean's cell phone went off, filling the alley with the opening rift to Smoke on the Water.

The man in the black suit ordered the other two to check it out. Dean fished the phone out of his pocket and answered with an angry whisper. "Now's not a good time Sam," he hissed, "I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"Yeah, well tell her you're finished I was right about the talisman and figured we could get something to eat before we head to the Frosty Caldron," Sam snapped back.

"Hey you," one of the men hollered when he spotted Dean hiding behind a trash bin, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Dean, what was that? Oh, don't tell me you're already there," Sam said, a feeling of dread washing over him.

"Ok, I won't. But I think you're right about this being the place," Dean answered as he stood and started to power walk out of the alley. His fast walk turned into an all out run and he could feel the others closing in.

"Damn it, Dean," Sam shrieked. He heard a dull thump, his brother groan and then the line went dead. "Dean," Sam called into the unreceptive phone.

When he came to Dean found himself tied to a chair that was positioned over a silver snow flake that had been embroidered into the middle of a large black area rug. He attempted to lift his head so he could look around the room but that action sent a wave of pain rolling through his abused skull. A soft moan left his lips and he heard someone snigger from behind him. "Good you're awake," the person said from behind, "I would hate for you to miss out on all the fun."

Dean closed his eyes and waited for the pain to subside. He fought to get the pain under control and when he was satisfied with his efforts he sarcastically answered back, "Yeah, would be a real tragedy for me to miss out. So when's the party start? I have a date later on and don't want to be late."

His remarks were met with a stinging slap to the back of his already aching head and he grunted. "Are you always such a smart mouth," his captor asked as he stepped around to stand in front of Dean, "I would have thought that someone in your position would find it wise to show some respect when you speak."

Dean looked up and noticed a silver snow flake hanging from a silver chain dangling from around the man's neck. "Jan Weiss, I presume," Dean questioned a smirk growing on his lips at the man's obvious surprise in hearing his true name.

"Ah, I see you know who I am; but, you have me at a disadvantage, I don't know who you are," Jack answered his cold blue eyes dangerously flashing. He stepped back and studied Dean like a biology student studies the frog before he cuts into it. "If I had to take a guess I would say you were a nobody, but seeing as you know my true identity and therefore undoubtedly my true nature I'd venture and say that you're a hunter. I would also have to guess that your being here is not a mere coincidence and that I'm the target of this hunt. Would that be correct?"

When Dean didn't reply Jack simply shrugged and continued, "Oh, well it's not as if it really matters now does it? After all, there isn't much you can do tied to that chair like you are. You'll have to excuse me. I hate to be rude and leave you like this, but I have a bar to open soon and I have a few things I need to take care of. I do, however, promise not to take to long."

Jack's image glimmered and Dean found himself face to face with the real Jack Frost. Jack reached out and touched Dean on his exposed hand, the sudden sharp cold caused him to cry out and he felt a tingling sensation creep up his arm. Jack smiled a cold cruel smile and said as he left, "Just a little something to occupy your time. Wouldn't want you getting too comfortable."

Dean helplessly sat as he watched the skin on his hand turn white and begin to burn. He knew the same was happening to his arm as he could feel the same burning sensation rise along it. He took a deep breath to steady his thoughts. He flicked his wrist and felt the tip of the small hunting knife he kept strapped to his arm fall into his hands. He sent a silent prayer of thanks out to whoever was listening that they hadn't found the knife and he maneuvered it in such a way that allowed him to rub the rope he was bound with against the knife's sharp edge. It didn't take him long to cut himself loose.

Dean could feel his body fighting against the cold that Jack had inflicted on him. His body burned where the cold had traveled to and he felt himself growing tired. He reasoned that along with the frostbite, Jack's touch had caused, he was starting to suffer from hypothermia.

He made it as far as the door when his legs gave out and he collapsed to the floor. He lay there his breathing growing more labored and he felt himself shivering, my bodies trying to warm itself up he thought as he passed out.

When he came to the second time around his whole body felt like it was on fire. He lacked the strength to lift his head and sound came to him muted, like he was talking to someone under water. His eyes aimlessly searched the room he was being held in until they locked on Jack's.

Jack had returned and was more than a bit surprised to find his latest prey had escaped as far as he had. "You're stronger than most," Jack said in a tone that held a little bit of admiration, "I like you, so I'm going to offer you a bit of advice; this would move along a lot faster if you'd just give up. Surrender to the cold."

"Y-y-y-ou'd like that w-w-wouldn't y-y-ou," Dean stuttered out through the chattering his teeth was doing, "O-or, m-m-m-aybe y-y-ou g-g-get o-offf on the s-s-suf-f-ering."

Sam parked the car he had hotwired behind his brother's and he used the spare set of keys to drive his brother's car the rest of the way to the bar. The dread he felt when he had first talked to his brother had grown into a full panic and an urgent need to get to Dean relentlessly drove him forward.

Sam entered the crowded bar and he scanned the area looking for any sign of his brother. He wove his way through the thick crowd, searching for anything that would give him a clue where his brother might be. He noticed two men standing near a door on the far side of the bar. Both men were wearing black suits that had a sliver snow flake embroidered on the tie. Sam manipulated it so he was standing at their end of the bar so he could listen in on their conversation.

"I can't believe we have to close down and move on after tonight. I really like it here."

"Yeah, I know. But, the boss is kinda nervous. He feels this place has been compromised. That hunter was alone, but who's to say he didn't tell someone what he was checking out. It's safer if we pack up and leave."

Sam's heart sank. They had Dean and by the sounds of it they weren't planning on letting him walk away. Sam continued to listen to the two goons, hoping they would give him a clue as to where Dean was being kept and if he was even still alive.

"I almost feel sorry for the poor sap. The boss is toying with him. He could finish him off anytime he wants and yet he allows him to fight it. I don't remember the boss ever being this sadistic."

"Shh, he's coming."

Sam turned and looked at where the other two men were looking. He saw a man, who wore the same kind of suit; enter the bar from a door in the rear. Sam watched as the man made his rounds around the bar. And then head off into the restrooms.

Sam knew it was now or never. He slipped threw the crowd and made his way to the back door. He checked over his shoulder and smiled when he saw the two goons were busy breaking up a fight between two very drunk women. He turned the knob on the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. He opened the door and slipped through; closing it just before Jack had exited the restroom.

Sam found himself standing in a hallway that lead to one door situated at the end of it. He walked to the door, tried the knob and found it to be locked. He looked over his shoulder, noticed he was still alone and pulled out his lock pick kit. Sam made quick work of the lock and when he opened the door what he saw took his breath away.

He saw his brother laying on a black leather sofa, his skin a sickening white color and his breathing shallow. He could see his breath turn to a freezing mist as it passed over his lips. Sam knew he had to get Dean out of there but the question was how. The only way out was back through the door that lead to the bar. Sam knew he had to risk it.

He slid one arm under Dean's shoulders and the other under his legs. He began to shiver from the cold that was rolling off his brother and he wondered in amazement how he had managed to hang on. Carefully Sam lifted Dean off the couch and turned to leave.

"And, just what do you think you're doing," Jack asked as he entered the room.

Sam took a step back, his arms tightened around Dean. "What does it look like," Sam tossed back, "I'm taking him out of here."

"Oh, I can't let you do that," Jack replied.

Sam turned and set his older sibling back on the sofa. This wasn't how he had planned on this playing out, but he was backed into a corner and there was no other choice. Sam reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the bottle of Anointing Oil he had put there. He twisted the cap off and flung the contents of the bottle onto Jack.

Jack began to hiss and his image shifted and Sam found himself face to face with the true Jack. With no time to think about what he was doing, Sam pulled out a book of matches, struck one, tucked it under the book's flap and tossed it onto Jack. The oil caught and Jack turned into a brilliant blue-white pillar of fire.

A loud shriek bellowed from the burning creature and he went running back down the hallway in an attempt to flee from the one who had caused him such torment. Some furniture in the room had caught fire and Sam wasted no time in picking Dean back up and carrying him out of there. He ran down the hall, that also caught fire and out the door back to the bar.

The bar was in total chaos. Patrons were scrambling to escape the burning mass that had once the bar's owner. Sam joined the panicked crowd and made it out of the building with Dean. He ran over to where he had parked the car and pulled the rear passenger door open. He carefully deposited his brother onto the back seat and tightly covered him with some blankets. Sam climbed behind the steering wheel, started the car and drove away from the bar and that town.

Two weeks later found the boys staying at another random motel in Charleston, South Carolina. Sam had insisted on staying put while Dean recovered. Dean had gone along with it because he knew he owed it to Sam. After all, it was his fault he had ended up where he did and caused Sam all that worry. But, that was then. Dean was finding himself growing restless. He needed to be moving, to be hunting.

It was the Monday of their third week in Charleston and Sam could feel his brother growing restless. He knew Dean was ready to be back on the road, but Sam wasn't. He had come close to losing Dean and he was worried that his brother's careless streak was only going to get worse. He knew Dean felt he was living on stolen time and that he should have died instead of their dad. But, the truth of the matter was Sam was happy that Dean was still there. He felt in his soul that this was the way things were meant to be and he hoped one day Dean would come to feel that way too.

Sam put his duffel into the trunk of the car and closed it. He climbed into the passenger seat and felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He looked over at Dean and knew he was physically fine for now. Dean had fully recovered and wouldn't suffer any ill effects from the spell that Jack had put on him. Jack had been properly disposed off and the tie to his magic had been broken.

Dean turned the key in the ignition and smiled when the engine roared to life. He was home and his brother was right there with him. No matter what happened, as long as Sam was there everything would be alright. Dean turned the radio on, found a classic rock station, turned the volume up and pulled out of the motels parking lot. He headed off toward the highway and to their next hunt.


End file.
